I'm Always Homeless in Philadelphia

LOVE Park is full of homeless people. Perhaps we should have
made some friends.

The first time I met Ashley was the morning after one of the worst nights of my life, which just so happened to take place in Philadelphia, her new home. (I had spent the night alone in the Philadelphia train station because I'm a cheap idiot who booked a trip home for a friend's wedding, justified saving $100 to fly out of Philly, and then was stranded there when the train taking me back to the city broke down. It was a monumental disaster.)

It was her first day at work, and I scared the crap out of her by acting like a genuine crazy person who had just slept in a bus station. Eventually she accepted that I am a crazy person so it's totally fine.

Since she moved there for grad school, I've been wanting to see her new home and perhaps learn a thing or two about the city of Brotherly Love.

I mean, what do most people know about Philly? It's historic. It's Always Sunny. It has a lot of really ghetto neighborhoods including one where Will Smith spent most of his days shootin' some bball outside of a school. And it also has a lot of cheesesteaks.

So I was determined to learn more, to really get in touch with the city.

The first 24 hours of my trip were fantastic. Ashley whipped up a delicious dinner for us on Friday, we stayed in and caught up over wine. The next morning we went to a great brunch over looking Rittenhouse Square where got to sit outside and soak up the warm fall weather. We were even treated to seeing a flock of tweed-clad bicyclists ride past our table. My first thought was, "Are we in Brooklyn?" My second thought was, "No, seriously, are we in Brooklyn?"

After walking around to see some famous stuff and stalking a bride doing her 'first sighting' with her husband which could not have been more awkward, we went back to her apartment and watched the Hangover.

A tale of debaucherous misadventure. How foreshadowing.

We went out and Ashley played the role of superior wingman. We met a group of cute guys at the first place who ended up serving as our resident pub crawl tour guides for the rest of the night. Until we ditched them so we could inhale cheesesteaks, obviously. That's when the night took an unfortunate turn. When we got out of the cab, Ashley realized her keys had fallen out of her purse at some point during our night. Uh oh. And no spare set.

Her boyfriend back in New York did his best to help us, calling every Philly locksmith while we tried to break down the door. It wasn't happening on either front. Apparently customer service isn't something they really value in the locksmith business. "Someone will be on their way in 15 minutes." Lies. All lies. Also apparently her apartment is really safe because there was no way to get in. At least that's something.

Oh and remember when I said it was unseasonably warm during the day? Well we hadn't bothered to bring jackets with us. Luckily my super scraggly long hair kept me warm.

We were getting so desperate that we even called around to hotels. How could they be all booked?!

Finally at around 3 am or so, Ashley broke down and called her mom who lives a half hour away. When she arrived, she found us hanging out with two police officers who had been like um what the hell are you doing out here, you are too pretty to be homeless.


I don't know what was weirder, the terror of
the 30 second blackout or seeing the Cowboys
play so well. Either way the seats were great.

Okay maybe they didn't say that. You see, I was already curled up, half asleep on the stoop, so I don't really remember what we talked about. Eventually a locksmith showed up (albeit not a very good one because he couldn't even pick one of the locks and had to drill through it), and we were finally let in around 5 am. 

One small problem, though, was that we had already committed to going to the Giants-Cowboys game with her family the next day, getting there early to tailgate. That left us with only a few hours of sleep and an hour-long car ride before we were to be surrounded by booze and barbecue.

In any other scenario, that would have been the perfect day. In any other not-homeless-the-night-before scenario that is.

While we both tried our best to enjoy the afternoon (read: not throw up), we decided to retrace our steps from the previous night to see if we could locate her keys.

Calling a bar to ask if they've found a set of keys with a "love" key chain is mildly embarrassing. Having to ask them for the name of the cheesesteak shop across the street so we could check there too is mortifying.

P dot S: During my homeless experience, it made me really curious why all homeless people don't migrate south for the winter. Sleeping outside in the cold is horrible. Why wouldn't you go somewhere warm? I mean birds have been doing it for years. Just a thought.